


A thousand times

by dykedelica



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: F/F, They are Both Bad With Their Feelings, fatou is going through a lot okay?, i got emotional while writing this for some reason?, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:21:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28773000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykedelica/pseuds/dykedelica
Summary: “I’m somehow always thinking about you. I read your messages a thousand times,” Fatou reads and reads again.“I’m somehow always thinking about you,” she repeats not even taking the time to acknowledge the fact if this was any other message she would feel dumb for repeating it so many time but this message was different, she felt warm like her room was suddenly lit up in flames or like she was wearing hundreds of sweaters and didn’t realize it.“I’m somehow always thinking about you.”
Relationships: Fatou Jallow/Kieu My Vu
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	A thousand times

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> THEY KISSED!!!!!! 
> 
> i'm just so excited to see what else druck has instore of this season, I'm praying for a Saturday cuddle scene. 
> 
> if you have any prompts you want me to write send them to me on tumblr (@dykedelica)
> 
> Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes!!

Fatou stares down at the blue chipped mug she nurses against her chest, the half-finished tea inside long turned cold, the jittering of her shaky legs making the table vibrate causing ripples through the drink, she sighs and pushes the tea away from her. The chair squeaks as she reaches forward and pushes her self up from the table, the mug in hand and her phone buzzing from the centre of the table, she looks at it once, twice before turning back to place her mug in the sink. 

She knows who the message is from and what it might say but she pushes the thought from her mind, trying to focus on the small things that won’t send her heart racing. The phone buzzes again and Fatou clutches the edge of the sink and sighs out through her nose, she’s just so tired of Kieu My, of the untouched piles of school work, of all the drama, of everything. 

Her dad yells something from somewhere in the house and Fatou sighs, pushing herself away from the sink and walking away, taking her phone from the table and traversing the halls of her home, seeking the solitude of her bedroom, away from Llia and her parents. She traces her fingers over the ridged hallway panelling that lines the walls, her socked feet leaving streaks in the carpet as she slowly shuffles along. 

She finds herself stands outside Llia’s door, hearing a muffled conversation between Llia and whoever he was speaking to before moving along and entering her room, shutting the door behind her and throwing her phone down on the unmade bed and takes a seat next to it, the tangled linen bunching underneath her hands. It’s quiet and Fatou revels in it. 

“Fuck,” she sighs after a moment, her peace interrupted by her phone buzzing again, rubbing one hand down her face and debating on picking up the phone to read the messages or just turning off her phone completely and laying down. 

Rolling her eyes and turning on her phone but ignoring the text notifications, not even looking at them, she opens her voice notes app and her finger hovers over the record button. She feels dumb but thinks about taking her old counsellors advice. 

“Fatou, if you’re feeling overwhelmed but don’t want to speak to anyone, why don’t you speak to yourself? Record yourself and talk about your problems, your thoughts and those things that are making you feel overwhelmed,” he had said and at the time Fatou had rolled her eyes but here she was with the app open and all of her problems ready to spill out. 

She presses record and starts talking. 

“This makes me feel dumb,” she starts and thinks about pressing stop and turning off her phone again but she clears her throat and starts again. 

“This week has made me feel like shit.” 

“I don’t understand her or what even is going on between us.” 

“I feel like I can’t understand anything.”

“I want my Abi but I’m more scared I’ll disappoint my family if I fail.” 

“I want her to be more clear with me.” 

“I don’t want everything I do to be done out of fear,” Fatou whispers and stops the recording, feeling like nothing has changed, she feels the same, her room is still quiet and nobody has burst into to laugh about her dilemmas. 

She shuts off her phone quickly before she lets herself see the unread messages and lies down, placing her phone on her stomach, watching the phone flash on and off with the coming and going of messages and Instagram notifications but she couldn’t care to see what people were saying, social interaction now feeling like a backpack full of brick on her lower back, pulling her to stumble backwards and misstep. 

The ceiling catches her attention, her eyes drifting upwards to stare at the stick-on glow in the dark stars that have been glued to her ceiling for years, they glow faintly with the dark afforded to them by the closed curtains though midday light still creeps its way in to cast the floating dust into visibility. 

Fatou doesn’t know how long she stares but her eyes are sore as is her neck once she finally sits up, her phone in hand and curiosity plaguing her mind. 

“For fuck sake,” she whispers at herself and shakes her head before turning on her phone and reading through her notifications, most from Nora, Ava and Mailin or a notification that someone liked her photo on Instagram but two messages from Kieu My sends Fatou’s heart racing so loud and fast that she can hear it in her ears. 

“I’m somehow always thinking about you. I read your messages a thousand times,” Fatou reads and reads again. 

“I’m somehow always thinking about you,” she repeats not even taking the time to acknowledge the fact if this was any other message she would feel dumb for repeating it so many time but this message was different, she felt warm like her room was suddenly lit up in flames or like she was wearing hundreds of sweaters and didn’t realize it. 

“I’m somehow always thinking about you.” 

Fatou didn’t know what to text back or if she should text back so she doesn’t, frozen on the spot and still rereading the messages, her eyes glued to the screen much like the stars to her ceiling. The clarity that was present a moment ago faded and the distressing hum of confusion was back, screaming at her to send back a message in all caps about something along the lines of screaming about what the fuck was going on with them. 

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, with a rough outline of what she wants to say and her fingers start tapping but she decides to delete her half-finished message and stares at her screen again, her heart in her throat when the typing bubble on Kieu My’s side appears but soon disappears leaving Fatou acutely aware that Kieu My’s is probably waiting on her to message back.

“Come over on Friday for the project,” Fatou types out and hits send before she can overthink it and walks away from her phone which buzzes with a response. 


End file.
